


Pack Mentality

by AmethystUnarmed



Category: Hat Films - Fandom, The Yogscast
Genre: Blood, Fluff, Garbage Court - Freeform, Language, M/M, Urban Magic Yogs, Violence, but fair warning, nothing too graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-04-21 13:04:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4830110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmethystUnarmed/pseuds/AmethystUnarmed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ross brings home a new court member. However, that doesn't mean the journey was all smooth sailing. With a new fae joining their ranks, tensions flare and relationships are tested as everyone tries to discover where they fit. But when a threat arrives... Who better to rely on than your pack?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [threeplusfire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/threeplusfire/gifts).
  * Inspired by [I needed you to notice](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4395815) by [threeplusfire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/threeplusfire/pseuds/threeplusfire). 



> This fic is set during threeplusfire's beautiful AU. Therefore, I do refer to events that take place in his series Bad Things Come In Threes. It is not necessary, however, to have read his series to understand what's going on (though I do recommend it to anyone who can read).
> 
> This is, specifically, for threeplusfire. I know you had a tough week, and wanted some fluff. After all the times your stories made me smile, I figured this was the least I could do.
> 
> This is pretty much a product of the job Sips got for Ross in "I need you to notice." Once they said Ross would be working at an animal shelter, I had a feeling that this would happen one day.

The second Trott heard the barking, he knew he was in trouble. Slowly breathing out, he closed his eyes. _Please don’t let this be Ross with a dog, please don’t let this be Ross with a dog..._ He opened the door. Ross’s eyes immediately met his own, light with merriment.

“Trott! I got a dog!”

 _You’ve got to be fucking kidding me_. Then he actually laid eyes on the creature.

“Holy shit!” He could hear a laugh from his right. Sips was lounging on the sofa, a cigarette in between his fingers.

“That’s what I said.”

The thing was huge. Even when sprawled over Ross’s lap, its head still came up to the gargoyle’s neck. Indeed, Ross appeared to be more dog than statue at the moment. Trott couldn’t see anything past his mid-torso. Everything else was black; black fur, black ears, and pitch black eyes. Lazily, the beast looked over at him, its tongue lolling out of its mouth. Trott raised an eyebrow. Though it looked like a normal (albeit incredibly large) Great Dane, the selkie could feel the magic radiating off it, in the same flavor that echoed off Ross.

“What is he?”

“She,” Ross quickly corrected. He stroked the dog’s ears as he spoke. “She’s a Church Grim.” Ah, that explained it. Another guardian spirit, much like Ross himself. No wonder the magic felt so similar, no wonder the gargoyle was already so attached to the mutt. The two had their tails entwined, like young lovers or some other utter bullshit. Trott ignored the sharp flash in his chest.

“Shouldn’t she be at her church?” he asked as casually as he could manage. He felt the frigid blue eyes zero in on him.

“Shouldn’t I?”

“Score one, Ross,” Sips chuckled, smoke puffing from his nostrils. Trott glared at him.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” The human broke into a shit-eating grin.

“You bet your sweet ass I am.” Meanwhile, Ross began exploring other places to pet the dog. He was incredibly pleased to find a spot on her stomach that made her tail thump against the ground.

“Shit!” Trott shouted as a picture fell off the wall, and a glass toppled off the table. The whole apartment was shaking. “Ross, cut it out!” The taller gargoyle lifted his hands apologetically, though the Grim whined at the loss of touch.

“Sorry,” he smiled sheepishly, “Fluffy likes it when I-” Trott sputtered.

“ _Fluffy_?” He stressed each syllable, like he couldn’t believe he was speaking them. “You named her _Fluffy_?” Ross blinked up at him, confused.

“Well, no. Zoey named her.” Trott grit his teeth. He could imagine her stifling laughter as she told Ross the name. She did this on purpose. He was going to have a few words with the witch. Later. Currently, he had a stray to deal with.

“Look,” he began with a sigh, “You can’t just bring a dog home.” Ross paused for a second, bit his lip. The smile that had illuminated his face wavered.

“Smith just brought me home,” he mumbled towards the floor. Fluffy nuzzled his hand with her nose, releasing a slight whine. It was a normal motion, like any dog trying to get attention from its master. But Trott had a feeling there was something more to it, like she was actually trying to comfort Ross. Trott sighed again.

“That was different.”

“ _How_!” Ross shouted, eyes flashing. Trott nearly took a step back. He had always known how powerful Ross was, how strong he could be. He had seen the gargoyle in a fight, watched as he literally ripped an opponent’s head from their body. This was not the first time he had seen Ross angry, no, but it was the first time that anger was directed at him. And, though he’d never admit it, it was frightening. Despite this, he took a step forward, matching the gargoyle’s glare.

“ _Ross_.” His tone was liquid nitrogen. Immediately, Ross ducked his head. He didn’t want to get in a fight, didn’t mean to yell. The last thing he wanted was to disappoint Trott.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, voice meek. “I can take her back to Zoey?” The offer was quick, almost desperate. Trott knew it was a version of an apology. Ross trying to be good, just like he always was. But he didn’t look at Trott as he spoke. He was gazing down at Fluffy (Trott had to hold back a shudder at the name), absentmindedly stroking her.

Ross would do whatever Trott told him to do. He would take Fluffy back, shove her out the door, even kill her, if the selkie wished it. He would never once ask Trott why, never question the order. That was just Ross. He would do whatever he had to in order to make Trott (or any order court member, for that matter) happy. He’d done it before, letting Smith drown him, taint him with magic. Their happiness always came before Ross’s own.

But it would hurt him. Ross would still smile and joke around, of course, act like everything was normal. He’d attempt to play video games with Smith, try to help Sips with the cooking. He’d do anything to keep them from realizing how he felt. But, Trott knew,  every now and then Ross would stare out the window, frozen like the statue he once was. He’d flinch when a dog barked, and steal a glance over his shoulder, just to be sure it wasn’t her. Ross already cared for the Grim, already considered it to be a creature under his protection. Considering the way he reacted to Will’s... absence, Trott doubted the resulting separation would be pretty.

It was for these reasons he hesitated in responding, and a lull fell over the room.

“You know...” Sips began slowly, shattering the silence, “I always wanted a dog.” Ross shot him a grateful smile, and the human winked at him. Trott groaned.

“Okay, fine,” he relented, “We can keep the mutt.” He spoke like every word pained him, as though this was the hardest decision he had ever made. But when Ross looked up at him, smiling like a kid on Christmas morning, he couldn’t imagine deciding any other way.

“Thanks Trott!” he cheered, and Fluffy barked in agreement. Ross shoved the dog off his lap and scrambled to his feet. Trott cried out in surprise when the gargoyle latched onto him, pressing a kiss to his temple. His glass tail wrapped tightly around Trott’s waist.

“Jesus Christ, sunshine,” he moaned as Ross pressed kisses down the side of his face, “If I’d have known this was how you’d react, I’d have gotten you a damn dog ages ago.” Ross chuckled, and the hot breath tickled his face. Trott hummed in approval when Ross moved to nibble his earlobe. The door swung open behind them.

“Oi, mates!” Smith called out, “You won’t believe what I just- WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?”

And just like that, the Garbage Court had a dog.


	2. Top Dog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smith meets Fluffy. Things go downhill from there.

That didn’t mean, however, that all of them _wanted_ said dog.

"What I still don't understand," Smith huffed, "is why there is still a goddamn Church Grim taking up residence on our couch." He angrily slapped another hunk of peanut butter onto his sandwich. Trott rolled his eyes. Smith had been pissy since he first discovered Fluffy’s presence. He wouldn’t dare mention it to Ross, of course, waiting until the gargoyle and his pet were out shopping. But that didn’t mean he stopped bitching at Trott.

"You know," the selkie began slowly, eyes lit with mischief, "you hit that sandwich any harder, you’re gonna hurt its feelings, mate."

“I mean it Trott! What the hell?” Trott shrugged, casually looking down at his hands.

“Zoey’s shelter doesn’t take care of fae creatures.” Smithy raised an eyebrow. Trott was suave, cool as ice. That was never a good sign.

“And there isn’t anywhere else that could take him?”

“Fluffy’s a girl,” Trott corrected, before he even realized he was speaking. He stopped, shook his head, and turned toward the fridge. Smith knew it was a bad idea but couldn’t seem to stop the biting remark at his lips.

“Oh, so _she_ has a name, I see.” Trott stiffened, but didn’t look back at Smith.

“That’s what Ross calls her, so yes, she does.” Smith ran a hand through his hair, sighing. He really didn’t want to turn this into a fight.

"Look... Trotty..." He walked up behind the shorter selkie, wrapped his arms around the fae's chest. For a moment, the man stood stiff, and Smith was afraid he would pull away. But he instead leaned into Smith's hold, familiarity overtaking the tension.After a moment, Smith spoke. “We really shouldn’t have a dog, mate. We can barely take care of ourselves,” he chuckled, but his attempt at a joke fell flat. Trott paused, then looked up. He was giving Smith a smirk the selkie was very familiar with, though he was never sure if it would end in pain or pleasure.

“Fine, fine. We can get rid of the dog. But you’re the one who has to tell Ross.” And with that, Trott brushed past him and opened the fridge. Smith snorted.

“Really? That’s your big threat? Pft.” Trott didn’t look at him, but the kelpie could feel his slimy smile. Smith chuckled again, albeit, a little less sure of himself. “Easy.”

“Sure thing, sunshine. Go right ahead.” The selkie replied with ease, more focused on the ingredients he was collecting than the reckless kelpie. Smith wanted to ask why he was so at ease, why such a mundane request would be such a challenge when-

“Hello Smith!” Ross cried as he entered the room. He was holding two bags of groceries and grinning in a way that made Smith’s knees feel weak. The gargoyle looked absolutely delectable. Fluffy trotted in behind him, carrying a sack of groceries in her mouth. It took all of Smith’s willpower not to frown. “I got those crisps you wanted,” the other man continued as he set his bags on the counter. He smiled downward and took the other bag from Fluffy. The hound let out a happy bark, and Ross absentmindedly scratched behind her ears. It was kind of adorable, the way he- No.

“Hey Ross,” Smith replied, trying to talk around the sudden nervousness in his stomach. What was wrong with him? “So, Trott and I were talking and-” He stopped when Ross looked up at him. He just... looked so happy. Happier than he’d looked in months. Ever since the whole fiasco with Kirin Dave and Will... Ross had been a little lost, even Smith had been able to see that. But now... He didn’t see it, the pain that so often filled Ross. It was almost like it had never been there in the first place. Then, that lovely smile began to wane.

“Smith? Is everything alright?” Fluffy, as if noticing her master’s distress, looked up at Smith as well. Now he was facing two sets of puppy dog eyes.

Fuck.

“Yeah... yeah. I’m just gonna help you with the groceries, is all.” Ross beamed.

“Really? That’s fantastic. Thanks mate.” He handed Smith a bag. Trott let a laugh, and Ross looked to him in confusion. “What’s so funny?” Trott smirked.

“Just something Smith said earlier. Don’t worry about it.” The kelpie scowled.

“You total fucking prick,” he muttered under his breath.

He knew this was going to end badly.

* * *

And movie night was proof of that.

Movie night had become a fairly normal tradition for the Garbage Court. Sips would pick some trash movie for them to watch, and Ross would inevitably get super into it and yell advice at the TV. Trott made them popcorn and complained about the terrible acting and effects, while Smith took the opportunity to cuddle and kiss the other members of his court.

But of course, it couldn’t be that easy.

When Smith got home from running deliveries, things were already well underway. Trott was hovering near the microwave, prepping the snacks for the night. Sips had already taken up a good three-fourths of the couch (he argued that it was his privilege as king) and Ross was sprawled out on the floor in front of him. Smith noticed (with barely masked annoyance) that Fluffy was present as well, lying at Ross’s side. Damn, son of a... Taking a deep breath, Smith went to sit in his usual spot: curled up next to Ross on the floor, head resting against Sips’s abdomen.

 _Grrrrrr_.

“What the fuck?” Smith shouted, quickly turning around. Fluffy was growling at him. The dog had lifted her head off Ross’s lap, was baring her teeth, and fucking growling at him. “What the actual fuck!” Sips laughed.

“Apparently, Fluffy doesn’t like to share. She’ll fit right in around here.”

“How come you get to sit by him?” Smith demanded. He was already pissed, and the human definitely wasn’t helping his mood. Sips only smirked at him.

“Well, shit, Smiffy. I’m top dog around here, remember?” He traced his fingers along the edge of his baseball cap, as though the redhead needed any reminder of who was king. Ross stroked the dog’s ears.

“She’s just being protective, Smith. Aren’t you Fluffy?” Smith rolled his eyes as Ross descended into doggy talk. “Aren't you? You're just being overprotective. Good girl, good girl. Who's a good girl?” Fluffy barked twice. “That's right, you are! Oh, yes you are!” It was creepy how she seemed to actually reply sometimes. It was happening more and more recently. Smith didn't dwell on it too long. His mind was focused on other things.

“Stupid bitch,” he muttered, and tried to sit down again. Immediately, Fluffy turned on him. She snarled and snapped at him, fangs flashing. Her eyes were glowing red. “Oh shit!” he screamed, and scrambled away, falling backwards onto his hands. As soon as he was out of range, her mood flicked like a switch. The demonic light left her eyes and she turned back to Ross and nuzzled him. It looked like she expected a fucking treat for fucking attacking him. “What the hell Ross!” At least the gargoyle had the decency to look sheepish.

"Sorry, Smith!" he chirped, but didn't invite him back over or scold Fluffy. If anything, he looked proud. Sips, meanwhile, was laughing his ass off.

“Hoooooly shiiiiit, Smiffy,” he chortled, wiping a tear from his eye. “I've never seen you move so damn fast before. Jeeesus!”

“Fuck you, you fucking pricks!” Smith snapped, flicking them off. He stood and dusted himself off, trying to preserve what dignity he had left. He stormed over to the recliner on the other end of the room and sat down, crossing his arms over his chest. Insults hissed between his teeth, most directed at a certain Church Grim. A warm buttery scent met his nose as Trott walked up next to him and offered him a bowl.

“Here you go, Smith. I’d put more salt on yours, but obviously you don’t need it.”

“Shut the fuck up, Trott,” Smith mumbled, idly grabbing a handful of popcorn. “Let’s see how you like it.” Trott grinned at him.

“Watch and learn, sunshine.” Trott approached the couch, and, once again, Fluffy began to growl. Without any hesitation, Trott barked back, a guttural, inhuman noise that made everyone in the room jump. He leaned forward and towered over the dog, showing his teeth in a mad grin. The Grim whined and lowered her ears. She laid on her belly at Trott’s feet. Trott smirked. “Good girl,” he said as he plopped down next to Ross. Ross curled into his side and laid his head on the selkie’s shoulder. Fluffy snuggled in between the two of them, sighing in contentment. Even Sips managed to connect, tousling his hands in Ross’s hair as he reached for a bowl of popcorn.

Smith, meanwhile, sat in shock. His jaw hung open and he really felt no inclination to close it. Only one thought ran through his mind.

“What the hell just happened?” Trott looked over and smirked.

“It’s the pack mentality, Smith. You have to assert your dominance.” Sips huffed.

“Fluffy may be the female dog, but it looks like you’re the real bitch.”

The others were laughing too hard to notice his angry volleys of popcorn.


	3. Frenzy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smith has a run in with some not so friendly faces. The gargoyle and grim know something is wrong.

It was reckless and it was stupid. Still, Smith couldn’t exactly blame himself. Sometimes, when you live in a world of mortals, it’s hard to remember that you’re not the only god.

He was walking in an alley when it happened. Jesus, that sounds bad. Midnight, and he was walking alone in the backstreets of the city? Great idea. But it wasn't like he had never done it before. Smith had been visiting his favorite local locale, a techno dance hub called “Frenzy.” It wasn’t his favorite club in the city (the drinks were too weak, the lights too bright, the colors too neon), but it served its purpose and was only a couple blocks from the Garbage Court flat.

He had gone out to drink, dance, flirt, forget. Ever since Ross had brought Fluffy home, the idea of hitting brick walls was becoming more and more appealing. The kelpie had wanted to have fun, release some of his pent up aggression on the floor of the club. A little glamour, a little charm, and he made out with two girls, four guys, and an ent. Unfortunately, he hadn’t eaten (Trott’s punishments were still fresh in his mind), but he had enjoyed himself all the same. It was for this reason he found himself navigating the slums at 12:33 AM, humming the latest Taylor Swift song as he made his way home.

That had been his first mistake, but it certainly wasn’t the fatal one. No, he could have prevented this mess if he had just paid closer attention, noticed the tripwires before he sprung the trap.

He had thought they were ordinary humans. When the two approached him, one with a knife and the other with a metal pipe, Smith figured it was his lucky day. A duo of idiotic muggers unlucky enough to choose a kelpie as their victim. It was only later that he noticed the stifled magic clinging to them, shielding them from his advances. Only when his fate was sealed did he see the black rings on their fingers, bearing the symbol of a golden tree.

Instead, Smith played along. He whimpered and held up his hands, backing up against the mildew covered brick. “P-please, don’t hurt me,” he’d stuttered, letting his eyes go wide. He directed a torrent of magic at them, fully intending to win them over, as he had so many others before. He’d thought he’d had them too. The taller man, with dark grey eyes that matched his heavy weapon, licked his lips. He stepped forward, and met Smith in a kiss. Of course, with his eyes shut and attention otherwise occupied, he hadn’t seen the man tighten his grip on the rod. He’d had no idea when his attacker lifted his arm to strike.

The blow quite literally blindsided him. When the pipe connected with his temple, he lost vision for a few moments. His world exploded in black and white spots and he fell to his knees, instantly disoriented. He hadn’t really felt the pain then. He was too damn surprised. That shouldn’t have happened. Smith had flooded them with magic, the two should have been drowning in awe of him. _What the fuck_... Then the pain set in. His head throbbed, the whole left side of his face tender. Warm liquid trickled towards his jaw, and he knew he was busted up. Worst of all, a line across his cheekbone, exactly where the bar had hit, burned like nothing else. That was why Smith finally realized how royal fucked he was. The pipe was made of iron, it had to be. Iron was the only substance that could affect fae like this. There was no way that was chance.

He’d been targeted.

Before he could come to anymore riveting conclusion, a foot connected with his back, and sent him sprawling. _Shit, shit,_ shit! he thought. Finally, his brain caught up and realized the danger he was in. Fight or flight kicked in, and Smith thrashed under the hands of his attackers.

“Let go of me, you fucking pricks!” He shouted, trying to land a blow.

“Hold him still!” Knife-bastard hissed, straddling Smith’s back. This only made Smith fight harder. _Oh no. If anyone is going to start any kinky shit, it’s going to be me!_ But before he could voice his thoughts, Pipe-twat landed a kick on his side. He doubled over, unable to hold back a groan.

“That’ll show him,” Pipe-twat smirked, as Knife-bastard yanked his arms behind his back. There were two quick clicks, and he was cuffed. His wrist burned at the contact, and Smith was one hundred percent certain these cuffs were iron as well.

“Sorry boys,” he spat, and tried not to worry about the coppery taste in his mouth, “I can’t pay you back for the lovely bracelets.”

“Don’t worry,” Knife-bastard replied.

“They’re compliments of Kirin Dave,” Pipe-twat added, before swinging the pipe at the back of Smith’s head.

* * *

“I don’t like it.” Trott took a deep breath, mentally counting down from three. It took an inordinate amount of effort not to snap at Ross. He had said that four times now. Still, he couldn't stop his sarcasm.

“You stare out that window any longer, and you’re gonna go cross-eyed.” Ross frowned, not looking away from the street.

“It doesn’t feel right.” Fluffy was beside him, as always. Trott hated to admit it, but he was starting to grow fond of the Church Grim. If nothing else, she was better at comforting Ross than he was. “He said he’d be back an hour ago.”

“You know Smith. Probably got distracted blowing some blond,” Trott responded as he browsed his book. If he wanted to do this ritual, he was gonna need more foxglove...

“I mean it, Trott. It- It’s like...” The gargoyle trailed off, unable to place his feelings. His stomach ached, and his horns prickled, and everything just felt so wrong-

“Look Ross,” Trott grunted, shifting to a more comfortable position, “This isn’t the first time Smith is late home from partying, and trust me when I say this won’t be the last. Now, come here, I need your help with something.” Ross had only taken a step in Trott’s direction when Fluffy completely lost it. The dog threw her head back and let out an ear splitting howl. Ross and Trott clamped their hands over their. Fluffy ran in circles, barking and snarling, before she ran at the door. It flew open and the Grim sprinted outside, barking as though she wanted the others to follow.

“What the-” Trott began, but Ross didn’t give him a chance to finish.

“I knew it,” he growled as he ran after his dog. He grabbed his baseball bat from the corner before leaving.

“This better not be a fucking false alarm,” Trott grumbled, but he tossed the spellbook off his lap and dashed out as well, not bothering to find shoes. For the first time that night, Trott understood what Ross was talking about. He breath ran short and his heart was pounding in ears because he got it. It didn’t feel right.

Nothing did.


	4. Something Like That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smith wakes up and a friend comes to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep. Still dark. Have fun.

The next time Smith opened his eyes, he immediately shut them again.

“Fuck.” It was too damn bright.

“Rise and shine, gorgeous!” Even without looking, Smith recognized Pipe-twat’s singsong voice.

“Go to hell,” he muttered, before attempting to open his eyes again. It was easier this time, but still hurt like a bitch. He was in some kind of warehouse. He assumed it was big, but his view was cut off by a wall of boxes half a dozen feet away. The goods created a makeshift cell, cut off from sight. Smith could see why they picked this spot.

Knife-bastard guarded the entry, back turned to Smith. He was stocky, solid, and stone-faced. Everything a perfect henchmen should be. He didn’t seem all that interested in the situation. Smith wished he could say the same about his partner. Pipe-twat leered down at him, twirling his weapon like a Charlie Chaplin cane. In the light, Smith could see his features better, and immediately found himself wishing he couldn’t. Pipe-twat was one creepy son of a bitch. Smith couldn’t tell if his eyes were a shade too pale, or if his smile held one too many teeth. Whatever the reason, Smith wished his gaze would go somewhere else.

He tried to move and groaned at his mistake. His arms were still trapped behind him, but now linked him to a pillar supporting the roof as well. Any attempt to move yanked backwards at his arms, causing the cuffs to dig in and burn even more. He was stuck sitting cross-legged at the feet of his captors, and it only pissed him off all the more.

“When I get out of here, I swear to fuck, I’ll-” Pipe-twat moved like a lightning strike, blurring before Smith’s eyes. He cried out as the man pressed the iron into his neck. His skin sizzled underneath the cool metal, and he had to bite his tongue to keep tears back. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“What a dirty mouth on such a pretty face,” Pipe-twat commented as he pulled the pipe away. “If only we could do something about that naughty tongue of yours-”

“No,” the other man grunted, speaking for the first time since Smith woke up.

“Aw, but Pete, I was just going to-”

“No. No permanent damage.” The pair continued their squabbling, and Smith could tell this argument came up a lot. He didn’t care. His keys were in the pocket of his hoodie. If he managed to slide them out, he might be able to use them to get the handcuffs off... He shifted to his side and immediately realized something.

His pocket was far lighter than usual.

Oh no.

Instantly, his eyes widened. _My keys, I have to find my keys!_ Panic seized his throat and he frantically looked around the room. _Not on the floor, not on the boxes... Oh shit, what if they fell out during the fight? What if a stranger finds them? What if-_

“Looking for these?” The tinny voice of Pipe-twat rang in his ears, almost echoing over the jingling. Smith’s eyes snapped forward, and felt only horror at the sight of his dangling keys. “It’s quite a nice set,” the son of bitch continued, turning the keys over in his grip. “Would you like to take a closer look?” He held the key ring out, and Smith was sure he could reach it. He leaned forward, ignoring the screaming pain in his wrists. He was so close...

“Ah, ah, ah!” Pipe-twat snatched the keys back and wagged a finger at him. “Finders, keepers, kelpie. So sit still.” Instantly, Smith locked in place. He couldn’t ignore this order, directly from the mouth of the one with his bridle. And he hated it. Pipe-twat laughed at the sight.

“Ooh, this is nice!” he purred, running his hand over Smith’s bruised cheek. “Originally, I’d hoped we would find the gargoyle. I’ve heard so many good things about him, the beautiful guardian with a crystal dick.” Smith growled.

“You touch him, and I swear to river itself, I will rip out your intestines and-”

“Silence,” Pipe-twat commanded, sounding almost bored. Smith’s mouth locked shut. “As I was saying before I was so _rudely_ interrupted, I _hoped_ we’d find the gargoyle, but... With your siren looks and this little trick,” he swung Smith’s keys around his finger, “I think I’ve changed my mind.” He leaned closer, now only inches from Smith. He smiled in such a way, Smith was surprised his face didn’t break apart.

“We are going to have a lot of fun. Smith.”

* * *

Unfortunately, that fun would have to wait for a later date.

“Did you hear that?” Knife-bastard, Pete, asked, tearing Pipe-Twat’s attention away from Smith.

“What?” Pipe-twat snapped, clearly annoyed. If Smith could’ve snorted, he would have.

“I thought I heard... a dog.”

“That’s impossible,” Pipe-twat huffed, “With the wards we set up, no normal creature could even come close to-”

This time, they all heard it. A low howl broke through the silence. And it was getting closer.

“What the hell is that!”

“Damned if I know!” Pete yelled. Smith didn’t even try to keep the grin off his face, and Pete noticed. “He knows something, he know something!” The man was growing frantic, and Smith found it to be absolutely delicious. Pipe-twat clenched his hand tighter around the keys.

“What is that? Tell me!” And who was Smith to deny an order?

“That? That’s Fluffy.” Both men blinked, staring at the kelpie as if he had grown three heads.

“Fluffy?” Smith nodded.

“Yeah mate. She’s our dog.” Pipe-twat descended into laughter.

“Your bloody dog? What, is Garbage Court going to sic their poodle on us?” He cackled.

“Something like that,” Smith smirked, and waited. He didn’t have to wait too long.

* * *

He saw her eyes first. Blood red orbs glowing from the shadow of stacks of boxes.

“Holy shit!” Pete exclaimed, holding his knife out in front of him.

Then her teeth, perfect white fangs, shining in the fluorescents.

“That’s no fucking poodle,” Pipe-twat gulped, courageous facade falling to the wayside.

Then she fully revealed herself, sleek black body hunched low as she stalked forward, eyeing up her prey.

Smith could have kissed her.

He’d forgotten how smart she was. Her eyes locked on Smith, bloody and bruised in the back corner of the room, then on the silver glimmer in Pipe-twat’s hand. With a bark, she charged forward, barreling right through Pete. The man didn’t have time to react, and was easily knocked to the floor. She leapt up then, pouncing on Pipe-twat. She snarled, and went for the throat. And with everything he’d been through, Smith didn’t mind the spray of blood on his trousers.

When she was finished, she trotted over to him, happily dropping the keys in his lap. Her eyes were normal now, and she was panting like a lap dog, rather than a Church Grim who just ripped out somebody’s trachea. Smith only had one thing to say.

“Good dog.”

Before celebrations could begin, there was another matter to deal with. Pete had recovered from his fall, and his eyes were wild. His hands didn’t shake as he held his knife, and Smith knew he was ready to gut her. Fluffy took a protective stance in front of Smith. Her hackles flared and she growled, as though daring Pete to attack. The guard moved forward, slashing his knife at the Grim.

“STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM MY DOG!” There was a crack, and Pete fell to ground, revealing a rather angry gargoyle with a red streaked baseball bat.

“Ross!” Smith cried, overjoyed at seeing him.

“Smith!” Ross scrambled over, sliding to where Smith was bound. He nuzzled Smith’s face and gave him a kiss that Smith eagerly returned. When Smith’s arms remained behind his back, Ross noticed his bindings. “Let me get those.” As Ross snapped the handcuffs with ease, Fluffy licked Smith’s face. If he didn’t know better, he’d say she was trying to clean off the dried blood and sweat that caked his face. Smith felt Ross stiffen.

“Your wrists...” With the shackles gone, Ross could easily see the burns left by the iron. He gently traced the mark. Smith shivered. The cool marble fingers against his skin felt like heaven.

“I’m alright,” Smith assured him, moving his arms forward. He sighed in relief as his shoulder blades cracked. “Where’s Trott?”

“He’s taking care of the outer guards. Fluffy and I managed to slip by. Come on, let’s get you out here.” With gentle strength, Ross helped the kelpie to his feet. Smith could feel Fluffy behind him, ready to catch him if he stumbled. Despite the pain, Smith caught himself smiling.

Maybe he could get used to this pack thing after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actually, I'm really happy with these last two chapters. And I finished it guys!!!!! Woo!
> 
> PS If anyone cares, Pipe-twat's real name is Stephan.


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